


Honne and Tatemae

by NightmareWolf



Series: EW Highschool AU [5]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, RIP tord, References to Depression, Self-Esteem Issues, Underage Drinking, shipping but can be platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 09:04:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18688375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightmareWolf/pseuds/NightmareWolf
Summary: Honne and tatemae are a pair of Japanese words used to describe the contrast between a person's true thoughts and feelings and the facade they choose to display in society.





	Honne and Tatemae

**Author's Note:**

> HEY MORE HIGHSCHOOL FICS BC WHAT ELSE DO I WRITE  
> this is very much inspired by headcanons and ALSO it might be a bit OOC because...that is the point of the story  
> anyway tell me what u think plz k thx bye rate 5 stars xddd

Tord saw a connection—whether it was intentional or not.

First he saw it with Tom. Anxious, kind Tom. He was the one highschooler Tord knew that  _wasn't_ a douche bag. Sure, he over-reacted, was emotional, and very, very annoying—but he was thoughtful and sweet; the kind of person you'd want to have on your side. He helped Tord with his homework and helped teach him English; he even read with him sometimes. It was incredibly childish and silly, but Tord appreciated it to no end. He could go on and on, but you already get the gist.

That's the reason why Tord was so shocked to hear the words come out of Tom's mouth.

"I fucking  _hate_ them," he had hissed darkly, his voice was no louder than a breeze through the curtains but the emotion was as vicious as a tornado. "They all—they all think they can just do as they please? I hope it bites them in the ass." His speech was just a tad slurred, and there was this glazed look in his voided black eyes. He took another drink from the bottle of alcohol that Tord figured he must have stolen. Tord was probably the only person Tom even dared to drink alcohol around. Given their ages, it was illegal for him to be doing this. But he knew full well that Tord committed thievery and smoked cigarettes, so why would Tord care?

Perhaps that was the one correct thing Tom ever thought in his life, because Tord _didn't_ care.

He pulled the glass bottle away from his lips before continuing. "I w-want to fucking stab them right in their smug faces," he had fumbled. "I  _hate_ them!"

Tord cringed as he watched Tom spit out the words in a visceral fury. He was scared that if Tom tightened his grip around bottle's neck any more, it would shatter. "They do not intend to harm." Tord had quietly tried to calm his friend down, hesitantly laying a hand on his shoulder. He wasn't good with empathy then or now. To him, Tom was being ridiculous. But even if he couldn't understand it, he pretended that he did. "Edward and Matthew—they our friends, yes? Friends do not wish to bring about—"

Tord wasn't given a chance to finish before Tom swatted his hand off his shoulder, his eyes blazing with intense rage. " _Friends_ _?_ As if you could barley call them that!" he had spat back. " _Friends_ don't terrorize you daily, Tord.  _Learn that._ "

Tord felt his shoulders rise and had to use every ounce of willpower to bite back a stinging reply. Fighting with Tom would've  _not_ been a good choice right this moment. Instead, he swallowed down his anger and indignation, trying to give a calm reply. "Yes, I knew," he replied with a steady voice. "But friends make mistake, as do ours. If you was to tell them I think they will—"

"Will  _laugh_?" Tom cut off again. "You know how they are, Tord! Don't pretend you don't. They're  _impossible_ to reason with— _ever_." He held the glass bottle up high and tipped it, chugging down the rest of the vodka in a few swift gulps. Though drunken and slowly loosing his grip on reality, Tom had growled out the last words Tord could remember from the memory.

"They can die for all I care."

 

Tord thought about it for the following days. How could he not? The sweetest, most innocent person he knew had confessed to wanting his friends dead. Or, at least he couldn't care less if they were dead. Tord tried to convince himself that it was just Tom under the influence of alcohol, that he didn't  _really_ mean that. Whether or not that was true, one thing remained certain: those emotions were genuine. They were not a fabrication of the alcohol. Tom held some, even if it were small, burning resentment for his only friends. It was distracting to think about. How could he see Tom laughing and smiling with Edd or Matt and not think about the fact he may not even like them? Or that he held such major grievances against them? Tord debated sharing what he knew with Edd or Matt, but why would they believe him? Plus if Tom found out he would surely be added to the "you can die and I won't care" list.

Tord hoped that such an uncomfortable turn of events could only happen once, but he was soon proven wrong. 

His friend (and role model) Matt had called for his attention only two weeks after what happened with Tom. Obviously, Tord had not spoken about it to anyone—not even Tom. So whatever Matt wanted from him, it wasn't about that discussion—and that was for the best. 

They were sitting together alone. The school, inside and out, was devoid of any kids. It was just them on the cold concrete steps that built up to the school's entrance.

"You're good at maths, right?" Matt had asked. Before Tord could even open his mouth for a response, the ginger had continued. "I need help here on the seventh question—I...I don't quite get it." 

It's funny, Tord had thought at the time, Mr. Popular who was practically the  _prince_ of the school—knew everyone, went to all the parties, had authority on basically every kid—was asking  _him_ —an unpopular, lone wolf outcast—for help. It was also quite surprising, too. Matt was unabashedly prideful and confident. He knew and voiced how great he was, or how pretty he looked. He would rarely confess to mistakes or admitted needing help. Tord would have thought that he'd rather get a failing grade before going to him for help. 

But maybe he was desperate, or something. Tord didn't know nor care at the time, and he still doesn't. He read over the question, its short and simple instructions being understandable even to him despite the language barrier. He was able to easily do the problem and explain to Matt how he found the solution in hopes that the other would learn how to do the same. Matt nodded along slowly with Tord's words, his eyes had strayed from the sheet of paper to Tord himself.

"Wow, you're pretty smart," Matt chuckled, and Tord found the lack of sarcasm in his tone to be a surprise. 

He shrugged, and tried not to show how proud Matt's praise made him felt. "It is nothing, really..."

"Whoa there, no need to boast!" Matt gave a sarcastic yet lighthearted reply and flashed Tord a smile. Soon though, his smile had fallen back into a neutral expression, and the humor in his tone had dissipated. "Really, I wish I was as smart as you were."

Tord's frosty blue eyes glistened with shock. He had blinked, his wide eyes stared into his friend's green ones. "That..." He paused. Maybe it was a joke? It was very possible—in fact, it was  _highly_ _likely_ —that Matt was pulling a prank at Tord's expense. He shut his mouth as soon as the thought crossed his mind, and did not reply.

Matt, however, continued speaking on behalf of Tord's silence. "I'm serious," he spoke lightly, easily guessing what Tord had thought. "I can see you going pretty far in life."

Tord had blinked once again. "Not as far as you," he murmured back in an effort to reason with Matt and himself. He could never see himself making it past highschool alive, not with his living situation. Matt had everything, on the other hand. Surely, his words were just pity.

"I would love to agree, but..." The ginger had glanced off to the side uneasily, obviously hesitant to continue speaking. His emerald eyes, once shining bright and confident, were now clouded with doubt and worry. For the first time Tord saw something that he had never seen in Matt before—insecurity. 

"Highschool popularity doesn't get you much in life, know that," Matt had abruptly stated once he spoke again. "But, hey! Neither does reading all those Japanese comics!" he quickly added, his tone clearly showed a desperate need to lighten the mood or, at the very least, make himself feel better. Tord didn't want to ruin that for Matt.

"Manga," Tord had responded curtly.

"Yeah, manga, whatever," Matt gave an amused, condescending-like scoff. He grabbed his things and stood up. "Anyway, thanks Tord!"

Tord had barley mumbled a "you're welcome" before Matt started walking off. Tord didn't follow, he simply had stayed where he was and narrowed his icy eyes. It didn't take a genius to figure out Matt had felt embarrassed and uncomfortable, and for a second Tord wondered if Matt felt the Norwegian's gaze burning into him. If he did, then he hadn't shown that he took notice; he just walked away until Tord could no longer see him, leaving the other alone to contemplate if the Matt he knew was just a character.

 

For a long while Tord carried this knowledge with him. Yes—Tord knew better than anyone that people don't show their true selves often, but these events were so jarring. This wasn't some one-off secret or taboo opinion, his friends seemed  _completely_ different during these periods. Yet, for as burdensome and uncomfortable as it was, Tord couldn't help how instinctively curious he was to find out more. Not just more about Tom and Matt, but more about another particular friend.

Edd.

Surely, if God was toying with him and treating him like the protagonist of a book—discovering secrets of which he could not speak of—then  _surely_ he would find out something sooner or later about his best(est) friend Edd. Something just as shocking; something far worse than any of this. To him, it felt like what he knew about his friends was being flipped upside-down. Even if it were twisted, he couldn't help but stare at Edd when he wasn't looking,  _waiting_ for the moment to present itself. But Edd was such an emotional person. So loud, made fun of everyone, sort of rude, and constantly laughed and joked and smiled. He always said what was on his mind—what did he have to hide if all his thoughts and feelings were already on display?

But it turned out Tord knew nothing about his friends—especially Edd.

The pair often hung out alone at Edd's house. Edd's parents were never around, and sometimes they both needed a break from Tom and Matt. It's nice to just draw in a comfortable silence with a friend, no words needing to be said. Edd had the idea to make a collaborative drawing; something just for fun. He had gotten out a huge sheet of white paper and a package of markers, so neatly tucked in place you wouldn't even tell that they've been used. They drew whatever they could think of on the paper, no matter how graphic or silly.

A cat on an airplane! Look, now a dog on a spaceship is challenging him! There's Terry—Tom's pet rat—playing the banjo while Ringo and Pine—Edd's cats—listen and applaud. Now there's some anime girl, and big text by her that says "WEEB". Down in the corner there's a cartoon pony, and not far from it is a serpent-like dragon that Tord found very badass.

"I want tattoo like that," Tord had pointed out, using the blunt end of the marker to point at Edd's drawing.

"I can give you a tattoo," Edd giggled in response. He held his black marker up to Tord's cheek and began to draw before the Norwegian could protest. He could not see what Edd was drawing, but the motion was so simple that Tord knew what it had been. It was that weird ':3' symbol Edd liked so much.

"Are you draw three-mouth on me?" Tord replied the moment the felt tip had left his skin.

Edd laughed. "For the last time, dude, it's a cat face, not three mouths." 

Tord huffed, and in some sort of way to get payback, he lifted his own cyan marker up and drew an X on Edd's cheek.

Edd must've been able to tell what it was from the feeling too, because his reply came rather swiftly. "Ohhh, how original," he chimed sarcastically. "What're you gonna draw next? A skull?"

"Better than three-mouth," Tord muttered, but Edd hadn't heard him.

"Here, here," Edd motioned with his marker when he spoke. "Give me your hand."

Tord obliged and held out his hand. Soon, Edd had grabbed it with his non-dominate hand. His hand was warm compared to Tord's usually cold body, and the Norwegian was aware of how soft and gentle Edd's touch had felt despite the strength he possessed. Tord sincerely hoped the other was too busy focusing on drawing to notice the blush that had spread across his face. He watched Edd as the other carefully drew on his hand, tugging on Tord's worn leather jacket for more room. Even with a big, clumsy marker he drew with such precision and grace. No doubt he was a talented artist at heart. Tord watched in a comforting silence as Edd redrew the same dragon on the paper. It stretched from his hand and shortly above his wrist. For a second, a subconscious thought had flickered in Tord's mind.

 _This must be it,_ he had thought in his native language.  _Instead of being loud, rude, and rough he's gentle and quiet._

Tord smiled when Edd pulled the marker away, both happy with his thought and the drawing on his hand. Edd had smiled, too. Even if Edd wasn't the nicest person, Tord always liked him the most. He wasn't as charismatic as Matt or as kind as Tom, but he was funny, quirky, and filled with willpower. Even when he acted out, Tord still admired him. And with this gentler side shown to him, Tord loved him even more—platonically, of course...!

He wanted to return the favor, so he had held his own marker tightly in his grip and reached for Edd's hand. Of course, the other  _always_ wore his hoodie, and he needed to roll his sleeve up a bit if he wanted to—

"What the  _fuck_ do you think you're doing!?" Edd had suddenly jerked back as if he were electrocuted, his yell sounded more like a panic-stricken wail to Tord. For the first time in one of these scenarios, Tord had flinched.

"Is something wrong?" He quietly asked, feeling an unusual amount of guilt at that moment. He  _never_ felt guilty even if he wronged others. Why did he feel bad?

"I..." Edd trailed off. He seemed to stunned to reply, as if he didn't expect Tord to reply with that.

"I have only want to draw on you, like you did," Tord calmly continued. "Can I not?"

"I...I'm sorry." Edd's voice suddenly dropped to a choked mumble. It seemed like he was having trouble speaking—that he was even on the verge of tears. "I didn't...I'm really sorry."

Tord narrowed his eyes in confusion—which can typically come off as hostility from him. Edd was never one to apologize or show remorse. He acted like a leader, always upbeat and messing with others. Rarely did he ever say sorry for whatever things he did which confused Tord further; compared to some other things Edd had done, this seemed like no big deal. Why was he apologizing for  _this_?

Edd must have mistaken Tord's silence and narrowed eyes as some sort of disapproval, because he had quickly continued. "I-I'm sorry I really didn't mean to. Tord, please don't tell anyone." His voice carried a surprising amount of fear and remorse. If he could've seen Edd's eyes, Tord was sure they'd look as wide and scared as a puppy staring into the maw of a wolf.

"It...is not big deal," Tord gave a light shrug. "No need to—"

"You don't understand!" Edd suddenly wailed out again. "Just say nothing, okay?"

"Why?" Edd went silent when Tord asked the question. So, he had asked again. "Why do you care?"

"It's...It's just..." He trailed off, the feeling of regret now accompanied with sorrow had become overwhelmingly strong. "God, I'm so fucking  _stupid._ " 

Tord cringed. To hear Edd degrade himself like that so close to tears...it was almost to much to bare for him. He moved himself closer, trying to give some sort of solace to his friend. "You are not stupid," he had awkwardly reassured. He was  _terrible_ at this.

"I am!" Edd snapped back angrily, his mood had completely changed almost as if Tord had tried to touch his hoodie all over again. "I'm a fucking  _terrible_ person and you know it, Tord! I deserve everything coming to me and worse!" his voice was a loud hiss, full of unbridled contempt and rage. However, his strong feelings weren't aimed at Tord. They were aimed at...himself? "It'd be better if I weren't here."

"I...I do not understand what you say, Edward," Tord's voice was distressed with confusion. Edd had never acted this way before—he never put himself down. Did he truly feel this way about himself?

"You don't need to," Edd growled back, the anger in his voice had now dissipated; it slowly morphed back into sorrow. "How can anybody like me when I don't like myself?" his tone had became so despondent and hopeless that Tord could scarcely believe this was the same Edd he was friends with. He seemed so...lifeless. It was unlike the energetic, happy upbeat Edd he always saw. Now he seemed regretful; a husk of his former self. With a sharp stab in his heart, Tord realized he had been wrong.

 _Being gentle and quiet wasn't his other side,_ he thought, the realization slowly sinking into him. 

"I bet I deserved it," Edd had mumbled and buried his face in his hands as Tord thought to himself. At this point, he seemed to ignore Tord; he seemed to be talking to himself. "It's all my fault, I deserve this, I should..." The words became too muffled and quiet for Tord to make out. Plus, he had barley understood what Edd was talking about in the first place. Not just because he had missed out on the first few words he had said, but because he seemed to be recalling things only he knew about. He was off in his own world, and with a shiver Tord couldn't help but think how many times he must've done this before without anyone knowing.

He sat there, feeling powerless to help his best friend as he continued to mumble through tears. He wanted desperately to make it all right, but he knew he couldn't. He heard the words "they wouldn't care if I died" quietly slip out from him. Regardless of who "they" were, Tord wanted to yowl out to him in that moment,  _no! They_ would  _care!_ But then the memory of what Tom said came flooding back, and he swore his heart stopped beating for a moment.

 _Would_ they care?

He would care! And that's all that matters. 

"Edward," he spoke up steadily and calmly. "Look at me."

His despairing friend seemed to flinch. He removed his hands, his bangs damp with tears. For once, Tord could see one of his eyes. It was a dull, tired brown. Tord thought he had never seen anything more pathetic.

"I will not say a word," he promised Edd. Whatever this was about, it was not his business. As much as he wanted to help he knew it wasn't his place. "I promise you."

"Th-Thanks, Tord...sorry about all that." Edd took in a deep, shaky breath, soon regaining his bearings. His voice trembled with a slight chuckle. "You're a good listener," he added on lightheartedly, but he wasn't able to mask the pain behind his tone.

And all the same, Tord wouldn't be able to forget.

 


End file.
